


head above water, heart going under

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Swimming, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Eating Disorders, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, High School, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pining, Swimmer Harry Styles, Swimmer Louis Tomlinson, Swimming, Triggers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, body image issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22904854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Swimming is Harry’s everything. Or at least, it’s his parents’ everything. Stay in shape. Practice. Win. Always win. Even as it feels like you’re sinking. Even if it feels like you’re struggling to keep your head above water.Swimming is Louis’ everything. He loves everything about it. The noise in his head isn’t so loud when it’s muffled by the splash of water. It’s funny how the one thing that keeps Louis grounded, is floating.Harry has to win everything, and Louis might be the only person who recognizes that he’s lost.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	head above water, heart going under

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Hannah, Autumn, and Eden for helping me brainstorm ideas for this fic! And thank you to Melia for helping me with the logistics of the swimming! Hope you all enjoy!

“That assignment will be due next Tuesday in class, so please be sure to turn that in. It’ll be worth twenty percent of your grade in this-”

The bell cuts her off before she finishes her sentence and Harry gets up from his desk. He grabs his notebook and shoves it in his bag before he feels a sharp smack on his shoulder, wincing, before turning around. 

“First practice of the year, yeah Styles? Or should I say Captain?” Liam smirks, nudging an elbow into Harry’s ribcage. 

“Not yet.” Harry laughs.

“Very confident, you are. Did you suck Coach Watley’s dick?”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. You should go into stand up comedy, really.” Harry rolls his eyes, making his way to the door of the classroom.

Harry eventually seperates from Liam in the hallway, making his way to the stairwell only the swimmers use. The only place it leads to is the pool, so if the school can get away with not cleaning it or paying for lights, they do. The whole stairwell is dark and dingy, and Harry’s nose burns with the familiar scent of chlorine as soon as he opens the door. He finally reaches the basement and turns into the room of blue lockers that he knows all too well.

Senior year. Harry sighs to himself. This is everything Harry’s been waiting for. This season will be the one that can make or break everything Harry’s worked so hard for. If he doesn’t get captain, his parents will kill him. He doesn’t even want to know what they would do if he doesn’t get a swimming scholarship, so he tries to only focus on the captain issue for now. He wants to be captain more than anything. The only problem is, he’s not the only one who does.

The door swings open and a mop of brown hair peeks in. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, maybe in a speedo. 

Louis Tomlinson. The fastest swimmer Harry has ever seen. Faster than him, Harry hates to admit. Louis has a slender frame, and strong lean legs that Harry’s seen him use like fucking propellers. It’s insane and completely unfair. Harry hates him.

Swimming comes so easily to Louis. He may as well have been born with fins and gills. Maybe he was. Maybe that’s why he’s so good. Harry would feel much less like shit if Louis was some freaky fish-boy superhuman. But, no. Louis is a normal boy who was somehow deemed deserving enough by the universe and whoever rules it to be some sort of swimming prodigy.

Harry doesn’t have that. He’s not naturally good like Louis, no matter how much he wishes that he was. He’s had to work for what he has. That’s the difference between them. That’s why Harry deserves to be captain. 

Harry’s parents are a little strict about his daily training. He swims at least 10 hours a week outside of swim practice, which totals to around 24-30 hours overall. He must always stay in shape. He can never get rusty. Even on the off-seasons he’s swimming at least 16 hours every week. He does diving training as well, even though he doesn’t compete in it.

“It helps your posture and your focus.” His dad always says. Harry doesn’t really know if that’s true or not, but he also knows there’s no point in questioning it. What his dad says goes. Harry’s parents just want him to be the best, so they’re hard on him. Harry knows he wouldn’t win if they weren’t. Harry isn’t Louis Tomlinson. Harry has to put in the work. 

“Alright! Welcome back, Swordfish!”

Yes. That’s their mascot. Harry thinks it’s kind of stupid. Too easy. 

“Today will be the first day of tryouts for the freshmen swimmers. That doesn’t mean the rest of you get a break, though. We will be using the main pool, but you all will be going to the secondary pool to run through some laps. Tomlinson, you call the shots.”

Louis nods. Goddamn it. If Louis is the first person coach’s mind goes to for this, he’s bound to think the same thing for captain. Harry cannot let that happen. He won’t.

“Alright. We’re wasting time. Get changed.” Coach says, turning on his heel and walking out into the main pool room.

Harry spins around and puts in his locker code, the same one every year. 2-0-0-4, the year Peter Vanderkaay won his first gold medal in 4x200 m freestyle in Athens. Vanderkaay was one of the first swimmers Harry was ever drawn to as a kid. He has asthma, and still competes. He doesn’t let anything hold him back. Harry aspires to be that way. 

He pulls out his black practice shorts out of his locker. For meets, they’re given the choice between the shorts or the speedo. Harry doesn’t have much of a choice though, his dad says he swims better in the speedo. For practice though, he sticks to the shorts. 

He pulls his hoodie off his head and throws it onto the bench, before wiggling his thumbs into the waistband of his skinny jeans to pull them off. No one pays attention to anyone in the locker room. All being swimmers, they’ve seen more naked people than they’d ever care to. So, Harry then slides off his boxers and pulls them off of his ankles before grabbing his swimsuit and pulling it up his smooth legs. (His dad says shaving makes them move smoother in the water.)

He steps over to the mirror and takes a breath, pulling his swimsuit up a bit higher on his thighs. He grabs a hair tie from his bag and pulls the curls on top of his head into a ponytail, before grabbing the rest of his swim gear and heading into the pool. 

His sits his bag down on the edge of a bench and slips his goggles over his head, adjusting them a little. He pops on a nose clip, and makes his way over to the pool. Mostly everyone is in already. Oops. Louis pops up from the water and smirks at Harry.

“C’mon now. Took you long enough.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, just rolling his eyes and stepping into the cool water, letting it engulf his body. His natural instinct kicks in and his feet slowly kick against the water, floating to the top. It’s been 2 days since he’s been in the water. Weirdly though, he kind of forgot to miss it. A splash of water hit his face and he looks to see Louis swimming away, his feet kicking up out of the water in an effort to make hard splashes. 

“That’s bad technique, you know!” Harry growls.

Louis just laughs, kicking again to make a bigger splash, clearly just trying to make Harry angry. Harry won’t let it though. He takes a deep breath and sinks down, submerging his face into the water and pushing forward. Really, they were supposed to be doing above-water today, but Harry needs to feel quiet right now, and everything is quiet under the water. Nothing is ever quiet. Especially home. Maybe that’s why Harry doesn’t really mind swimming so much. All he can hear underwater is the sound of his own movement. Slow and steady. Everything moves so fast, too fast. Harry sometimes feels like he can’t keep up. He feels like he’s running in the middle of the pool. He can’t go fast enough and he could slip and fall at any time. He could drown. 

Harry comes up from the water on the other side and grabs onto the cold tile of the edge. He fills his lungs with the chlorine scented air and his lungs burn from being under for longer than he should’ve been. That’s swimming though. Pushing your body, pushing your lungs. Harry bites his lip, his tongue immediately met with the sharp taste of the chlorinated water. He spots Louis on the other side of the pool, yelling at some sophomores for messing around instead of swimming. Harry’s never understood that. Swimming isn’t fun, it’s not about having fun. It’s about focus. It’s about winning. It always has to be about winning. That’s what’s been said over and over into Harry’s ears since he was a little kid. Playing catch with his dad even, if he missed the ball too much, his dad didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day, and he’d have to prove himself for next time. 

“Styles! Clinging to the edge, is that your new technique? Don’t think you’re gonna be winning too much with that one, huh?” Louis’ voice says from behind him. Harry doesn’t know how he didn’t hear him swim up. Distractions. Distractions are the path to failure. 

“Well I don’t think talking to me is going to get you any wins either, Tomlinson.” Harry mocks, splashing water at Louis’ tanned chest. Louis just smirks, splashing water back. Harry shakes his head and dives back underneath the water.

Harry hates him. He hates that smug look that never leaves his face. No matter how many events Louis loses, he still keeps that dorky smile on his face. It’s stupid. Harry has nothing to smile about. He can’t see what there is to smile over, especially if you lose your event. Harry and Louis compete in different events because Louis does freestyle, and he’s more of a sprinter, while Harry does butterfly and is better at endurance. They do end up competing together in some events though, they do a relay together and they compete against each other in a 50 free. Harry hates when they compete together, because it’s the only time Harry knows it could go 50/50 for a loss. Louis is better than him, he knows that. When he knows he and Louis are going to end up doing the same events, he trains harder. Now, he knows he and Louis aren’t actually competing against each other, so whichever one of them wins is a win for the team, but his parents disagree. Harry cannot let Louis be better than him, because Harry needs a swim scholarship, and University of California has never picked more than one swimmer from their school. Harry has to get it. It’s all he’s ever worked for, it’s the only thing that leads to success for him.

Harry pulls himself to the surface and his chest heaves. He takes a deep breath and brings his hands up over his head to get more air in. For some reason, today, his lungs really aren’t working with him, more so than usual. Of course, a swimmer was gifted with Asthma, more proof that whoever runs this universe truly despises him. He should be pacing himself today, but he feels so numb and exhausted that he almost likes the sharp pain in his chest. At least he feels something. 

The hours of practice pass and Harry ends up finishing up his laps and climbs out of the pool. His swimsuit bunch up under his hips and he reaches to pull them up higher. Everyone else has mostly shuffled out of the locker room by the time Harry makes his way in. He’s in no rush to go home, so he doesn’t feel the need to hurry. He takes the hair tie out of his wet hair and ruffles it a bit with a towel. He steps toward the empty showers and turns the water on one of them as hot as it will go. He lets the steaming water rain over his skin as he closes his eyes. He rinses off his swimsuit a bit before sliding it off his legs and hanging it on the hook of the door. He squeezes some of his apple shampoo into his hands and begins massaging it through his hair, letting the crisp smell envelop his senses. 

He hears a door open behind him but continues rubbing the soap through his curls, figuring it’s probably just a straggler of the freshmen who forgot something in his locker. His eyes open when he hears another shower turn on behind him. He looks over his shoulder to see Louis letting water begin to run down his body as he pulls out a small black bottle of body wash. God, his tan legs go on forever, only to be connected to his strong muscled back by that glorious ass that everyone knows all too well. The best ass Harry’s ever seen on a guy to be quite honest. Harry may hate him, but he cannot deny that he’s absolutely gorgeous. That’s not even a question of sexuality, he’s just hot. Harry’s not even sure what his sexuality is, honestly. He’s never really had time to think about it. It doesn’t really matter, his parents would never allow him to date anyone right now, because it would distract from his swimming. Harry knows they would especially disprove of a boyfriend, though, because being gay as an athlete definitely makes you a lot less likely to be sponsored or signed. So, if Harry wants to go professional, he cannot afford to add any more obstacles to his path. Sure, there are people like Tom Daley, he’s an openly gay diver, but that’s one in a million. Actually, no, making it into olympic level professional swimming is already one in a million. Making it in as a queer person is one in a billion, maybe even one in a trillion. Of course, no teams or sponsors would openly say that, but every athlete knows it. Harry knows Louis is openly gay, never had a boyfriend though that Harry’s ever seen. He came out not too long ago, at the beginning of junior year. Before that Harry remembers him being with Danielle from the girls’ swim team. They’re still friends, he thinks. Harry still saw them hanging out a lot after Louis came out, and last season she came to watch their meets sometimes. Regarding Louis’ sexuality though, he’s lucky enough to be a Tom Daley. He’s such a naturally good swimmer that any sponsor would be an absolute fucking psycho to turn him down just because he’s openly gay. 

Harry soon realizes that he’s been staring at Louis this whole time as he’s been zoned out, right as Louis meets his eyes. Harry quickly rips his gaze away and coughs into his elbow in an attempt to hide that he was previously staring. Louis seems to buy it because Harry sees him turn back around from the corner of his eye. Harry lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Harry CANNOT have Louis thinking Harry’s got a crush on him or some shit like that. Harry would never stoop so low, he has actual taste.

He finishes up rinsing the shampoo out of his hair and turns the shower knob off, grabbing his towel and swimsuit off the hook on the door. The cold air hits his naked body as soon as he steps out of the steam and towards the lockers. He walks back toward his own locker and opens it up, 2-0-0-4, and he grabs some underwear and black basketball shorts. He slips them on along with a purple Nike hoodie. He doesn’t bother wiping the remnants of the water off his skin or towel drying his hair. He feels way too exhausted today and he thinks that shower took all the rest of what he had out of him. Suddenly, he feels dizzy and overwhelmed and he isn’t sure if it’s because he’s tired or because that shower made him think too much.

He flops down on the empty wooden bench in front of his locker that must be older than his grandma. It creaks as he takes a breath and rubs his face with his hands. He feels his weak elbows involuntarily hit his knees as he tries to raise his arms, so he flops them down in his lap, his head still firmly placed in his palms. He can’t remember when he started crying and he only notices because his hands feel damp with tears. His stomach contracts as cries and sniffs continue to escape his body without his permission. He lets out a long uneven breath and runs his shaking hands through his, still dripping, hair. He hears Louis’ shower cut off and he immediately jumps off the bench, making his vision go blurry for a second. He sniffs and wipes his eyes, hoping they aren’t too noticeably red and grabs his bag. He meets Louis’ eyes for a second before he turns to step out the door. At least he knows Louis didn’t hear him crying, even if he saw his watery eyes.

The showers didn’t cover the sound as well as he thought they did, though. Louis definitely knows he heard Harry crying.

Harry hops into his black jeep and his still shakey hands fumble to put the keys in the ignition. He pulls out of the school parking lot and tries his best to empty his head. The drive home feels long and quiet, but Harry knows that won’t last for long as soon as he pulls into the driveway of his house. 

“Captain Styles?” His dad asks before even saying hello.

“We haven’t done Captain tryouts yet, today was just putting freshmen into their categories.”

“Mm.” His dad grunts, unimpressed.

“Did you eat lunch, Harry? You hungry? I was just about to make Gemma a sandwich for when her carpool gets here, I can make you one too?” His mother calls from the kitchen.

Gemma’s his younger sister, she’s 11. She doesn’t have to do a sport because she’s a girl, that’s how his dad feels about it. Sometimes Harry resents her for it, even though he knows it isn’t her fault, and she still has to do Girl Scouts because Mom did it. She doesn’t have to train everyday for Girl Scouts, though. She doesn’t need her weight and muscle monitored for Girl Scouts. Peddling cookies is nothing compared to what Harry does. Yet, they still seem to pay more attention to her. They’re both expected to have all A’s in school, and they do, but when Gemma gets an A on a test, it goes on the fridge and Mom takes her to Rosco’s for slushees. When Harry gets an A on a test he gets a “Good.” and a clap on the back from Dad, usually followed up by a lecture about keeping his grades up for college. He wants to tell himself that they care about them the same amount, just in different ways, but Harry knows that isn’t true. Harry’s Dad just wants a son to carry the legacy of the family name, since he’s carried it through a successful business, Styles’ Hardwood. They can’t be bothered to pick Gemma up from Girl Scouts after school though, and Harry can’t pick her up because he has swimming, so she does a carpool with the girls down the street. 

“Yeah, I already ate. I’m good, thanks.” He hasn’t eaten, but he doesn’t want to be downstairs when Gemma comes home and they all congratulate and praise her for the new knots she learned to tie today.

“Did you lift before school?” His dad gets back to the training questions, of course. It’s all he ever wants to talk about with Harry.

“Yeah. 70 pounds.” 

“Mm. Could’ve done more.” His dad sighs.  
Harry was expecting that. Nothing that Harry ever does is good enough for them. That’s what makes him get better though, he knows that. His dad is right. He could’ve lifted more, he just wasn’t feeling too good this morning. Harry knows that isn’t an excuse though, because University of California doesn’t care about how he feels, they care about how he swims. That’s all he should care about too. He could’ve spent extra time in the pool today instead of crying in the locker room like a baby. 

“You check weight today?”

“Nah. I forgot.” He didn’t forget.

“Check tomorrow, Harry. It’s important.” His dad sighs again.

“Okay, Dad. I know.”

He definitely knows.

“I’m gonna go take a nap.” He says, rubbing his tired eyes.

“You want me to wake you up for dinner?” His mom asks, lightly.

“Yeah that’s fine.” 

“Alright. Go get some rest. Study.” His mom smiles.

Harry makes his way up the stairs to his room. Everyone who’s seen Harry’s room always tells him how cool it is, but Harry doesn’t see it. It looks straight out of a catalog, because that’s basically what it is. Every room in their house is the product of his mom picking out a page in one of her interior design magazines and designing the room just like it, piece by piece. No changes. No personal touches. Perfect, just like the catalog. Harry’s room is painted with a crisp sky blue on the walls, only a mirror by his beside and some weird piece of ocean art hanging on them. A metal loft bed stands in the corner and a desk on the other side, by his closet, accompanied by a bright green swivel chair. A bookshelf collects dust in front of the back wall, full of books from school and swimmer biographies, from when Harry actually enjoyed it enough, and had enough time to read about it for fun. That brings him to the only “Harry touch” on his ikea showroom of a bedroom. On the inside of his closet door, a poster of Peter Vanderkaay is taped up. The corners are worn and there are tears in several places from moving and replacing the tape. Harry hung it up when they first moved in. He was 12. They moved here because the highschool in this area is a better one for swimmers, a scouting school for UC. Harry didn’t really want to move, though. He had real friends at his other school, and he liked it there. He knows it was for the best, but he can’t help but question what his life would be like if he stayed at his other school. UC would’ve never blinked an eye at him there, though, even if he knows he was the best swimmer there. There was no fish-boy Louis Tomlinson in his way there.  


Harry climbs into his bed and pulls a blanket over himself, staring at the ceiling. He sighs and rolls over, closing his eyes and hoping he’ll feel better when he wakes up, even though he knows he never does.


End file.
